


your face will fade away

by Windmire



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 04:45:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12247254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windmire/pseuds/Windmire
Summary: Jason's soul timer thinks he's dead.They're not soulmates. But it might just work out.





	your face will fade away

**Author's Note:**

> Today is... not day 2 of jaydick week in my timezone yet, but I might not be able to post tomorrow lmfao, I'm sorry. And I might just be late to posting the other two I've got written, oops.
> 
> Anyway, this has also definitely been done before. But the idea wouldn't leave me alone!

Jason's soul timer thinks he's dead.

He's never forgotten all the time he spent staring at it as a kid, wondering just what kind of person was watching the very same numbers slowly count down till the day they met. It'd all been so exciting then, counting down to a day he couldn't wait to reach.

The day he met his mother, it'd still been steadily counting down, still years away from the day it would reach zero. As it had been his entire life.

Then he died.

And when he came to, when he was conscious again, _himself_ , and he looked down at his wrist...

It was gone.

He remembers that perfect blank moment when he caught sight of his unmarked skin, when the world around him seemed to fall away and he just _couldn't understand_. Where was his timer? The numbers that had always been etched into his skin?

Then it clicked together. And all his hopes, all his dreams, the teenage fantasies he'd pretended he never had, they all went up in smoke. Just like Jason had.

Because it didn't take a genius to figure out what was wrong.

He knew damn well he hadn't met his soulmate yet. But his soul timer just... stopped when he died, disappeared the way soul timers always do when they meet or when one half _dies_. Then his timer didn't get the freaking memo when he came back. His wrist stayed stubbornly, frustratingly blank, no matter how much time passed, no matter how many people he met, and.

He figures somewhere out there, there's someone whose timer disappeared the moment he died. And who's moved on, thinking their soulmate's dead.

It's probably just more proof he should have never come back.

Oh, he knows he's not the only one who's died and come back, knows even Superman did it once, but. Well, Superman met his soulmate before he died, didn't he? The fucking Kryptonian had a fucking soul timer, met his soulmate, died, and came back, all neat and tidy.

And Jason? Jason was obviously a mistake.

So maybe it's more than a little stupid, for a mistake to get involved with Dick fucking Grayson. Who is most definitely not a mistake.

Because Dick? Dick doesn't have a soul timer. Of course he fucking doesn't anymore. But it's for the right reasons. Things were neat and tidy for _him_ , too. He met his soulmate, they dated for years, they were going to _get married_.

Then--and Jason probably shouldn't have felt the slightest pang of vicious _satisfaction_ when he found out after he came back--it all came crashing down around him.

It all came crashing down so hard that now he's here, of all places. In Jason's safe house, in Jason's bed.

Dick wraps his legs around Jason tighter, his heel digging into Jason's lower back, and lets out a long, deep moan.

The sound sends a shiver down Jason's spine, his hand squeezing convulsively around Dick's thigh.

Hard enough to bruise, he realizes dimly, in the same breath that he realizes Dick won't mind.

If anything, it encourages Dick.

With his heel pushing against Jason's back, with a hand on the swell of his ass, Dick draws him closer, coaxing him in deeper, deeper, deeper.

And at just the right angle for Jason to brush against that sweet spot inside Dick on the next thrust, again and again until Dick's writhing underneath him, broken, _wrecked_ , gasps spilling from his lips.

"Jason..." he finally manages to say, more gasp than word. "Just like... that... Just. Like that..."

And who is Jason to deny him?

He hitches the leg over his shoulder higher, spreads Dick's legs just a little wider, and rolls his hips in another thrust, setting a faster, harder pace, until Dick's moaning like his life depends on it, the hand on Jason's ass clenching around the skin and his free hand grasping at the sheets. Until his babbling's the only words that manage to make it through the haze of pleasure in Jason's mind-- _please, Jason, just like that, so good, you feel so good, Jason, Jason_. Until Jason's lifting the hand at Dick's hip to wrap around him and Dick _keens_ , and again when Jason starts stroking in earnest, matching the rhythm to that of their hips moving against each other.

All too soon, Dick's shaking underneath him, spilling warm over his hand, and in what feels like the space of a heartbeat but has to be so much longer, looking up at Jason with eyes so _intense_ , so focused on him, that Jason can't _not_ follow him when those eyes meet his.

When he comes back to himself, he's lying balanced with his forearms on either side of Dick's head, his rapid breathing loud in Jason's ear.

He meets Dick's eyes again, and he's not ashamed to admit, at least to himself, that the look in them is enough to make his cock twitch one last time, before it decides it's done for the night.

Carefully, he pulls out of Dick, drawing a groan from him, and lets out a woosh of air as he lets his head fall onto the pillow, into the crook of Dick's neck.

They don't speak for a while. He doesn't know how long.

They should get cleaned up, he thinks a little hazily, but somewhere between the words leaving his brain and reaching his mouth, he's wrapped an arm around Dick's waist, and Dick's got a hand at his back, tracing a line back and forth.

He doesn't want to move.

And that? That's a bad idea.

One of the absolute worst ones he's had since this whole thing started.

Used to be, they'd get cleaned up, dressed, and be on their separate ways in minutes.

Dick rolls them over so they're face to face, so he can rest his hands at Jason's sides, so Jason can let him tuck his head under Jason's chin, one hand rising to rest at the back of his head.

And this isn't getting cleaned up. This is getting comfortable, not leaving.

They had a routine before, a way to keep _this_ impersonal.

And now...

They're not soulmates. They never will be. They're not _meant to be together_ , much less cuddling three nights a week after fucking.

But this keeps happening. Dick doesn't leave the safe house. Jason doesn't ask him to.

They still don't speak.

But, by morning, hours after Jason's drifted off, Dick is gone from his bed, hell, from the entire safe house.

He rolls over, buries his face in a pillow, and pretends the bed doesn't feel too empty.

-

Dick and his soulmate broke things off a week before their wedding, after weeks and weeks of arguments. They came back together once, twice, and each time broke up more explosively than the last. There was no third time.

Or so Jason's heard.

Frankly, he doesn't really _get_ how soulmates, meant to be compatible in every way, can just have their relationship end like that. He doesn't understand how the universe, fate, what the fuck ever is in charge of this shit, can have two people meant for each other and let them reach that point in the first place.

But what does Jason know? _He's_ never meeting his soulmate. _He's_ doomed his soulmate to never find the person meant for them.

Is that really all that different from Dick and his soulmate effectively dooming each other to never again be with the person meant for them?

He doesn't know.

And he's not exactly asking Dick.

Dick, whose breathing is only just beginning to slow down again, where he's still wrapped like an octopus around Jason on his safe house's couch, shirt undone and pants down to his ankles.

Jason's not in much better shape.

But Dick. Jesus, Dick pulls it off. He's beautiful like this, fucking _radiant_ when he looks up at Jason through hooded eyes, when he sprawls out along the couch and, honestly.

Honestly.

How could his soulmate have given this up?

Sometimes, in the safety of his own head, he feels a stab of petty satisfaction when he sees Dick like this. Dick's not his soulmate, will never be his fucking soulmate, but _he's_ the one who gets to see him like this now, the one who gets to make him come apart. Not his soulmate.

But those are dangerous thoughts.

Dick buries his face in his shoulder, his hands holding on tight to his shoulders. And Jason should get up, should pull his pants back up and remind Dick they should go their separate ways for the night, but.

It's getting harder and harder to do that.

He turns his head to nose at Dick's hair and he has never hated himself more in his life.

Dick lets out a small, pleased sound, relaxing further against Jason, and _now_ Jason's never hated himself more in his life.

They don't talk about this. They never have. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am and nothing more.

But he still ends up kicking his pants off the rest of the way, watches Dick do the same, and lets himself be pulled along when Dick falls backwards onto the couch.

They don't talk about this.

Which is proving to be kind of a problem with this new _cuddling_ thing that keeps happening.

Dick doesn't say anything, but tilts his head up in a silent request and Jason leans forward to meet him halfway, to capture his lips in a kiss.

And this. This is more familiar territory. If Dick just wants to make out on his couch after fucking, he's more than happy to oblige.

Dick immediately deepens the kiss, nipping at his bottom lip before diving right in.

One hand ends up resting at the back of Jason's neck, 

And he thinks he'd be okay with it going on like this for the rest of the night. No need to think about how long it's been since they both got off and they're _still_ here sharing each other's space.

What matters is the heat of Dick's mouth. It's slowly pulling Dick apart with his lips, his teeth, his tongue, until he can catalogue and file away every little sound he draws out of him.

Except. 

Dick's the first one to pull away, but he doesn't stand. Neither does Jason.

Hell, he holds Dick just a little closer, lets him tangle their legs together.

 _Fuck_ , he thinks, as he feels himself drift off.

 _Fuck_.

He is so fucked.

-

Relationships with people who aren't soulmates aren't unheard of. _Settling_ is what a lot of people call it, pity lacing their every word. Not that many of them would ever call it that to those couples' faces, but.

Not like people are stupid.

But Jason and Dick don't have a relationship. They have an arrangement.

They _fuck_.

It's easier to tell himself that, when one night he finds himself in Dick's apartment, and all his clothes stay on.

He's sure they meant to fuck that night, had been more than ready to. But he climbed in the window to find Dick in the living room, a needle held between his lips, and halfway through repairing a tear in his Nightwing suit and.

And Jason has always been a fucking idiot.

His traitorous heart skips a beat, oddly _charmed_ at the sight of Dick doing something so simple, so fucking domestic.

It's nothing special.

It's so fucking endearing Jason wants to _scream_.

Dick pats the couch cushion beside him when he notices Jason, before turning his attention back to his repair job.

And Jason means to just wait him out, to wait till he can get to the purpose of his visit. But.

The thing they're supposed to avoid interferes.

They _talk_. Careful topics, shallow things here and there, but Jason manages to make Dick laugh more than once, finds himself grinning more often than not and, before he knows it, Dick's paying more attention to him than his sewing and.

He's not really disappointed.

He's not really disappointed either when morning comes and he finds himself in Dick's bed, after Dick rolled his eyes at him the night before and told him to just share the bed. Even though they hadn't even touched each other.

But _now_.

He wakes with Dick looking at him, his lips curling into a smile when he notices Jason's awake.

This is dangerous.

"Morning, Little Wing," he says, and Jason has to look away at the nickname, has to pretend his heart doesn't stutter.

"Morning," he mutters, glancing at the door.

This is probably his cue to leave, probably just when he should be excusing himself and getting the fuck out.

But he's a fucking idiot, and makes the mistake of glancing over at Dick before he does.

The words die in his throat.

Dick's gaze is unwavering and the bastard has to be able to tell what effect those fucking _eyes_ have on Jason, with the way that smile of his widens the longer Jason stares at him helplessly, edges closer to a smirk.

Wordlessly, Dick rises up on his elbows and Jason lets him lean over him and press his lips to Jason's in a wet, openmouthed kiss.

Dick pulls away to press another kiss to his cheek, his jaw, and slowly leaves a trail down his throat, his bare chest, down and down and down.

Jason gasps, and very carefully keeps his hands on the sheets, when Dick reaches the waistband of his boxers and, traitorous fucking body that he has, Dick finds him half hard already.

 _Fuck_.

Agonizingly slow, Dick pulls his boxers down and Jason groans.

Then it's his inner thighs where he's dropping more wet kisses, hard enough to bruise this time. Jason presses the heel of his hand against his mouth, taking in a ragged breath.

Dick leans forward to nuzzle against him, to press his lips to the side of his cock and Jason gives in and raises his free hand to tangle in Dick's hair, prompting a hum of approval from him.

Then, he barely even has time to _gasp_ before Dick takes him in his mouth and Jason _gasps_ around his mouth. His world narrows down to wet heat around him, to the vibrations that course through him every time Dick hums--encouraged by Jason's reaction every time--to his hand in Dick's hair.

To how Dick obviously notices his efforts to muffle himself and only takes it as a challenge, swallowing him _deeper_ , his stupid clever fucking tongue taking him apart second by second.

 _Fuck_.

He barely has time to grunt out a warning before the world whites out before his eyes, his ears ringing as the world drops away.

He comes back with a ragged breath, to find Dick pushing himself up to his knees between Jason's legs, the back of his hand pressed to the side of his mouth.

"Now it's a _good_ morning," Dick says once he notices Jason looking at him again, sounding entirely too pleased with himself.

"Jesus fucking Christ, I hate you," he manages to say.

A good fucking morning indeed.

 _Settling_. Is that what they call it again?

-

He asked, once, what happened between Dick and his soulmate. Just what could compel the two of them to give it all up.

Lying there, alone in a safe house bed, he watched as Dick froze in the middle of pulling his pants up, turning wide eyes on Jason.

He regretted the question immediately.

Before he could take the words back though, Dick looked away, and with a forced casual air he had to know Jason could see through, said, "Things just don't work out sometimes, Jason," and his voice was just _too_ controlled, _too_ even.

If anything, it just highlighted the _wrongness_ of it all.

Dick looked up again and there was no disguising the pained expression that stole across his face, even with that lopsided smile he aimed at Jason.

He hated it.

"It doesn't really matter anymore." He finished pulling up his pants and leaned to grab his shirt off the desk chair, his body forming one long, graceful ( _dangerous_ ) line Jason had to tear his eyes away from, close his eyes for just a moment. "It was a long time ago."

The words were nothing, platitudes, meant more to make Jason feel better than Dick. But he could hear what Dick _wasn't_ saying, in the way his voice wavered, in the near imperceptible hitch in his breath when he said _it doesn't really matter anymore_. He could see it in the way his eyes kept skipping over everything, couldn't seem to focus on Jason when he normally made a point of making eye contact.

It said more than enough.

Jason swallowed. Try as he might, the words to form an apology for the question wouldn't form. "Got it." He pushed himself up on his elbows and looked up to find Dick had shrugged his shirt back. "I..."

Dick didn't let him go on. He just flashed another (strained) smile at Jason and, without another word, turned on his heel and left the safe house.

Jason hasn't asked again since.

It's not like he's particularly afraid of any answer Dick could give, of finding Dick still loves his soulmate even after breaking up. He's under no illusions as to what they're doing.

They're not even really _settling_. It can't be a _relationship_ when it's an _arrangement_.

Yeah, sometimes relationships between soulmates don't work out. There's no end of reasons for it. But they move on, they settle for second best, and eventually forget about their soulmates.

But Dick isn't like that. Dick never stops loving, 

The smart thing, the future he can distantly see unfurling before him, is one where Dick comes to his sense and returns to his soulmate, the one person he's meant to _love_ above all others. They'll give it one last try, finally work it out, and settle down with the family they were meant to have.

And Jason?

Dead people don't have soulmates anymore.

So it's not like anything Dick could have to say, if Jason asked him about it, would surprise him.

(The words would lodge in his chest, would squeeze just a little tighter around his heart, in that vice grip he's imagined over and over and labeled _Richard Grayson_. But they wouldn't surprise him.)

But that look on Dick's face. That waver in his voice, followed by a hasty retreat.

He doesn't think he can do that again.

-

In the end, it's Two-Face that does it.

It's another one of Dent's mad schemes. Two former Robins, two bombs. _Too_ many henchmen for them to fight back when they get ambushed separately.

When he regains consciousness, Jason finds himself on his side on the hard, concrete floor, arms tied behind him. Tied tightly enough to _hurt_ at that, thanks for fucking nothing.

He blinks and finds he lost his helmet sometime during the ambush, but his domino's still on. And all right. He can work with this.

Jason carefully tests his bonds, and stops, sucking in a surprised breath. With every movement, his hands brush against something solid and warm, something _breathing_.

He rolls over, heart in his mouth, and who does he find but _Nightwing_ , in the same damn situation as him.

Fuck.

Jason pushes himself up into a sitting position and, as he gets to work on loosening his bonds, lets himself take a closer look at his newfound companion.

Dick's still out cold, lying on the ground facing away from him, hands tied behind his back and a bruise blooming high on his cheekbone.

Oh.

Whoever tied them up wasn't trying very hard. Jason manages to loosen his hands from the rope quickly enough, and rises to his knees to untie Dick.

He stirs, groaning.

"Easy there, Nightwing," he mutters, distracted. "Almost got you."

The second Dick's hands are free, he rolls over onto his back, looking up at Jason blearily. "What..."

"Falsefacers," Jason supplies, and he can't quite keep the bitter edge from creeping into his tone. Willis Todd may have been a piece of shit, but he hasn't forgotten how he died. "I take it they got you, too?"

Dick groans, raising a hand to his head. "Yeah. How long?"

"No fucking clue. No clue why they dumped us here without bothering to really secure us either."

His immediate concerns taken care of, once Dick makes to sit up, Jason lifts his eyes to the other side of the room.

And gets his answer.

The faint beeping sound finally cuts through the fog in his brain just as the whoosh of breath from Dick beside him tells him exactly when he notices what Jason did.

"Oh."

Jason's blood runs cold.

Two barricaded steel doors.

Two bombs.

Oh.

It's Dick who breaks the silence. " _No_ ," he whispers and when Jason turns to look at him, he finds him shaking his head, ashen-faced.

"This is bad," Jason says faintly, rising to his feet. "How much time have we got to disarm 'em?"

The answer, he finds, as Dick scrambles behind him to take a better look at the bombs, is _not much_.

Not nearly enough with no gear.

"Jason," Dick says urgently, reaching out to touch Jason's shoulder.

Jason lets himself turn around to face him.

"If it's Two-Face, he's gotta be dealing with Batman right now, before anything goes off. Right now, we find a way out."

"Not looking real good though, Goldie."

"Doesn't matter. Either Batman finds us here, we find a way out, or we find a way to keep you safe."

Jason practically hear the record scratch. "Me?" he asks, incredulous.

"Yes, you. I'm not." Dick clamps his mouth shut, shaking his head. "This isn't happening again."

More than a little puzzled, Jason looks between Dick and the exit, and back. "Okay..." he says slowly. "I'm still not seeing why I'm the priority here though, Birdbrain."

Dick presses his lips together. "Don't make me say it."

"Fine." Jason frowns, but turns toward the bombs again. "I'm doing something useful then--"

Dick's hand on his shoulder, more pressure behind it this time, stops him in his tracks. "Hell no! You already went through this once and--"

Jason doesn't listen to the end of that.

Oh. Of course Dick was thinking of that warehouse. Where everything blew up there too.

Suddenly, he hates hearing a reminder of that from _Dick_ , of all people.

"What do you care?" he snaps, ignoring the way his own heart speeds up. "Feeling guilty?"

"It's not about guilt!" Dick shakes his head, his grip on his shoulder growing stronger, if anything.

Jason doesn't try to shake his hand off just yet. "Then what's it about?"

"I don't want you to die!"

" _Why_?"

"Because I love you, you idiot!" Dick all but shouts, desperation etched into every line of his face.

Jason's breath gets caught in his throat. "No, you don't," he blurts out, realizing even as he says it how ridiculous he sounds.

Dick laughs, the sound more helpless than mirthful. "And why not?"

"We just..." Jason gestures between them. "We just have sex."

Dick frowns, visibly steeling himself. "It's not just about sex for me," he whispers. "Haven't you noticed that by now?" He finally, finally drops his hand from Jason's shoulder and scrubs a hand through his hair. Even with his mask on, there's something so _open_ about his expression that Jason only just barely manages not to look away. "I can't let you die again. I... Fuck, I love you."

He doesn't understand. "But... what about your soulmate?"

"My soulmate?" Dick scrunches up his nose in confusion--Jesus, what a time to find him freaking adorable. "We ended it years ago, you know that. I'm not..." He trails off and seems to find something in Jason's face that makes his lips twist in displeasure. "You think I'll want to go back to my soulmate."

"Uh. Yeah. You're kinda supposed to."

" _No_. We agreed we wouldn't try again. It just doesn't work between us, I don't..." He sucks in a breath. "You're the only person I want to be with."

The bombs must have exploded before he woke up. They must have been set up to go off right away, to mock Batman, not negotiate with him. This must be some kind of post-death dream, a gentler way to ease him into the afterlife this time.

Because this cannot be actually happening.

He cannot be hearing this.

Jason opens his mouth, but no sound comes out.

"I know," Dick goes on, tone just bordering _something_ beyond desperate, "I can't really ask you for--"

Jason doesn't get to hear the end of that sentence.

The beeping speeds up, matching the beat of his heart.

" _Jason_."

Dick shoves him, _hard_.

The last thing he hears is Dick's shout, followed by a loud crashing sound.

-

He wakes in what he recognizes as Dick's bed and finds the man himself sprawled over the other side.

Huh. Not the most conventional of wakeups.

But fancy that. He's fucking alive.

Dick stirs before Jason can say a word, blinking slowly in the morning sunlight.

Jason stays silent and watches as Dick finally seems to realize Jason is awake beside him. "Oh!" He bolts upright, sitting up. "You're awake."

"Yeah..." he says, feeling sluggish. "Care to tell me what happened?"

Dick flushes. "Sorry. I kinda dragged you out here when B said you weren't injured."

Slowly, Jason sits up and lets himself fall against the headboard. "B let you."

Dick tightens his lips. "I didn't really give him a chance to stop me."

And. Oh. _Oh_ , Jason can just imagine.

"After... we talked," Dick goes on, voice rising in pitch just the slightest bit. "I kinda... panicked when I thought the bombs were going off. But B came in just then and... He took care of Dent, won his stupid game or whatever. And he got us out and..."

Jason swallows. "And you grabbed the guy you'd just spilled your guts to and ran," he manages to say.

"I..." Dick bites his lip, not meeting Jason's eyes. "I meant every word. I really do..." He shakes his head. "I know I can't ask you any more than what we already have, Jason. Especially if the soulmate thing's so important to you. I just... needed to tell you. And if you want to break off what we do have, I'll understand."

There's words Jason should say, words bubbling up in his chest, so fiercely his chest _aches_. But they get caught in his throat, choking him.

He raises a hand to his chest, lifting his eyes again to meet Dick's. And surges forward to capture Dick's lips in a kiss.

Dick lets out a soft, startled noise against him, but kisses back right away. Then stops, hands on Jason's chest. "What do you..."

"Your soulmate's a fucking idiot for letting you go," he murmurs against Dick's lips and can't help the little thrill that shoots up his spine at the way Dick shivers. It's as good as any push for him to go on, "I want anything with you that you want to give."

Dick shivers again, pressing his lips to Jason's again, opening up for him, deepening the kiss.

And Jason could lose himself in kissing Dick, he's had that thought more than once, could spend however long doing it as Dick wants.

But it's not long until Dick's gently pushing him back against the bed, hands firm against his chest. "You still took a beating earlier," Dick says. "And B did manage to make me promise I'd make sure you rested."

"I feel fine," he grumbles, completely ignoring the way his head swims once he's fully horizontal again.

"Uh huh." Dick sounds skeptical and, really, maybe it's the headrush, maybe it's what they just talked about, but it's fucking hysterical.

He just can't quite manage to make the laughter come out.

Jason rolls his eyes. "Maybe you can get in the bed, then, if you want me to sleep."

"You really need to rest..." he says slowly.

And that just... That just won't do. The guy's gonna fucking confess his feelings after months of fucking then just fucking refuse to sleep in the same bed as him because he needs to _rest_?

Jason narrows his eyes. "And then maybe you can fuck me and--"

" _Jesus_ , Jason, fine!"

"To both things?"

"Yes, to both things."

Eventually, he rests his head on Dick's shoulder and drifts off to the sound of his heart beating under his ear.

All in all, it works out pretty damn well.

**Author's Note:**

> i have never before written smut in my life oh my god this barely even counts
> 
> But thank you for reading! ♥


End file.
